


Grey

by mydrunkjoey



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Comfort/Angst, FC Schalke 04, Gen, IDK WHY I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT THIS..........
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:17:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2716919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydrunkjoey/pseuds/mydrunkjoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sky's pretty grey, clouds patchy, and there isn't a single bird in the sky. The view is nothing soothing really, and if it isn't for the soft singing in Ucchi's ears, the rubber lodged deep for complete distraction, Ucchi wouldn't find many reasons to stop. The bench's blue paint is peeling, the wind is blowing a little quicker, his shoes are soaked, and Ucchi can't stop crying. The sky is grey and awful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grey

     Among the one thousand things Ucchi hated, scrunchy wet socks were up there, right above windy rain, and below electric shocks from expensive carpets. With a combination of two, wet socks, windy rain, and the addition of messy hair in his face-- his frustration tips over towards exhaustion. Even after a twenty minute run, the exhaustion is more mental, more emotional, than physical. Ucchi stops by the bench, plops down on a damp seat, and curses under his breath.  
     At least his tears blend into the rain.

     The sky's pretty grey, clouds patchy, and there isn't a single bird in the sky. The view is nothing soothing really, and if it isn't for the soft singing in Ucchi's ears, the rubber lodged deep for complete distraction, Ucchi wouldn't find many reasons to stop. The bench's blue paint is peeling, the wind is blowing a little quicker, his shoes are soaked, and Ucchi can't stop crying. The sky is grey and awful.  
     He barely understands the song, doesn't know enough English to pick up on every metaphor and psychological concept, but the way she shings, the way her voice cracks, breaks him. The word “love” is mentioned a few times, and though Ucchi applies it to something far from romance-- each repetitve call tugs a string.

     Ucchi is used to joking around about how soccer is a hobby, and how every injury calls for a relaxing two weeks. He's used to how his friends would laugh about it, slap his back, and call him 'cool.' He doesn't talk about clenching his pillow at night because the painkillers would run dry, doesn't talk about how absolutely sickening it'd be to watch his friends shine, and laugh, and cry together. He wouldn't because he'd get attached. He'd want it more than he already does, and admitting it would make the days in waiting, hurt even more.  
     Funny enough, Ucchi doesn't know if it's possible for it to hurt more. Maybe a little overdramatic in his assumption, his body aches like big flashing signs to remind him of how truly out of shape he was. How much he didn't fit in. Drenched and exposed to negative temperatures, he laughs in the middle of a choked sob.

     His friends are two hours into training, ready to play the final match of the season. Ucchi's here, crying in the rain with slurred English filtering through his phone. And it's too late to say, useless to say with no one to direct it at, but he loves soccer, loves it more than anything else in the world. And if Ucchi's feet, the bruised and cut up slabs of muscle and nerves could move a little faster, angle in the right directions, and didn't give way as much as they did-- he'd be able to do much more. He'd be able to say much more. If Ucchi's body, the lean delicate contorted bag of meat and bone could pack on weight, and stretch upwards, higher, and higher into the sky, he'd be able to play.  
     There're all excuses really.

     It's almost cinematic how quick the rain eases up. His socks are ruined, and he can feel a cold settling comfortably inside his chest, but Ucchi's tears dries on his chin. He doesn't really know where he's headed, but the song repeats for the third time, and “love” is murmured again, and Ucchi takes the risk. Risks hurting himself all over again, for the sake of accepting what soccer means to him. What his coping mechanism for everything in his life had been, and still is. There's an embarrassing amount of stress placed on something so simple.

     Ucchi plucks a flake of paint off, a navy blue chip rusted over and damp. The situation hasn't changed at all really. He's still not on the field, he's still in a weak physical state, and he has a lot to prove, but thinking differently is a start. The sky may be grey, but Ucchi doesn't have to be.

**Author's Note:**

> After watching a Japanese show Ucchi, Makoto Hasebe, and Eiji Kawashima were in, I had to write this... Basically, Ucchi confessed that during a time when he was benched a lot, he would run home in the rain. He talked about how a teammate (doesn't say who) showed him Birdy's "Skinny Love" and he'd listen to it on repeat and cry in the rain. Also he talked about how he doesn't like showing his emotion (and jokes about not caring too much about soccer when he was on Oshareism, another Japanese talk show) so I really wanted to write about him struggling with that...?
> 
> BUT YEAH. I've been working on another Kagakreutz fic! It's looonger, and I'm writing a Pierreus fic so these should be up hopefully by next week!
> 
> ALSO I'D LIKE TO THANK EVERYONE WHO LIKED MY OTHER TWO FICS AND COMMENTED. Y'ALL ARE DARLINGS. xoxoxo


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